Mail Jeevas
by Kermitfries
Summary: Light Yagami cannot control the demon within him. What happens when Kira sets his sights on Matt? Will Matt survive? Will Mello sink so low as to ask Near for help? Will Near care?
1. Mail Jeevas

A/N: Major inconsistencies with the manga. Just forget everything you know about the time line of Death note. All you need to know is characters and their relations to each other. All that matters is who each individual is and the basics of Death note. This is AU. And my first death note fic. I was looking through them all, and I realized that even though Mello was one of Light's three major conflicts as Kira (and by three majors, I mean L, Near and Mello), there were so few fics involving Light and Matt. Matt was fighting him too, and I wanted to know what it would be like if Light and Matt were to come face to face. But there weren't enough fics, and so I decided to do it myself and write my own. I hope you enjoy, and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death note. I gain no profit.

XXX This is just a teaser chapter. Review and tell me if you think I should continue. If you don't review, I can't continue **I WILL REEDIT THIS FIRST CHAPTER, AND MAKE IT BETTER, SHINIER, IF I DECIDE TO CONTINUE THE STORY. **XXX

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Four days. That's how long it'd been since the last time Mello had been home, the last time Mello had called him and asked for an update on surveillance. Matt remembered vaguely feeling the concern stab restlessly at his chest after the first twenty four hours of absence. What was living, if it weren't for Mello there, chirping away on the phone about his plans, or stomping around the apartment, picking arguments over stupid shit that wouldn't matter in a few hours? Mello had turned into a such a frequent daily routine that Matt didn't know what to do with all the sudden solitude.

Deliberately ignoring the unchanging screens of his 'charges' Matt turned away and busied himself with daily rituals that seemed increasingly pointless. After a second shower, beating eleven levels on the new video game Mello had unwittingly bought him, and a late lunch, Matt left the apartment. Even as he was locking the door, he knew he shouldn't be leaving. He knew he should be watching the annoying black and white television screens for changes. He knew sooner or later Mello would call him and demand a report on the past four days. But Matt didn't care. He'd deliberately left his cell phone on the kitchen table. If Mello could ignore him, then he sure as hell could ignore Mello.

Four blocks away, while on his 21st cigarette, Matt realized that he was being watched. He also realized that it'd been too long since he left Wammy's house, because he couldn't discover from where his stalker was hiding. The stalker was far enough away so he couldn't hear the footfalls, even when he listened hard specifically for them. Eyes darting from left to right, trained hard beneath his tinted goggles, and he was sure this person was behind him. A few sharp turns later and he was sure the person following him had to realize that he knew he was being tailed.

A hand gripped his shoulder hard, forcing a shocked gasp from his blackened lungs, and while kicking himself for not hearing the attacker before he got so close, Matt spun around and away from the contact. The complicated defense techniques he'd learned at Wammy's resurfaced immediately. Matt had taught himself other strategies, strategies that Wammy's seemed to have forgotten. The killing point. Fighting dirty. His body moved fluidly, his arms blocked his face every time the attacker focused on it with hardened fists, and he managed to dance out of reach every time the attacker made another grab for him. In the back of his mind, Matt knew he had been underestimated by whoever had chosen to take a hit out on him. This goon was too big, too heavy and powerful. He couldn't keep up with Matt's speed and every time he swung and missed, he had to frantically regain his balance.

A punch that Matt's frantic mind didn't catch hit him hard in the ribs, forcing the air from his lungs in one pained 'whoosh'. He more so felt the crack of his ribs rather than heard it. Clumsily blocking a weak punch to his face, he left his injured ribs exposed. _'Nice'_. The second punch to his ribs was harder than the first and the gasp came out as an audible yelp. He didn't even try to block the third and fourth punch. The pain was quickly getting to him and he hated it. The punches were gaining momentum, forcing yelp after yelp from him every time they landed on his ribs. Darkness enveloped him before the punches stopped, even when he consciously tried to fight it off.


	2. Light Yagami

A/N: I'm still unhappy with how short this chapter is. But I haven't gotten many reviews. So Review, people! Please. I'll love you forever!

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_Let them hate, so long as they fear_

_-- Accius_

The handcuffs enclosed tightly around his already bruising wrists secured Matt in place, as if he had a chance at escape. The two guards outside of the three inch thick steel door were armed with automatics and enough ammo to wipe out a small village of Amazonian warriors. Single handedly. Down the hall and around the corner stood six, count 'em, six extra guards, not just armed with machine guns, but well equipped in specific martial arts, as if it were possible for Matt to disarm all six of them. Every window, every door was equipped with motion detectors, every room was being watched by unseen eyes. There were no blind spots. Escape was not a possibility.

Curled in on himself, arms numb, forehead pressed firmly against a bloodied knee, the first thing Matt was conscious of was the intense pain radiating across his chest. Of course Matt had experienced more pain than this, from the hands of his best friend no less. He refused to weaken beneath it. Beneath all of it. The pain, the sudden restraints, the huge unknown threatening to smother him. It all hurt, but he had hurt more, and that mere fact made it all seem so much more insignificant.

But now conscious, what was he supposed to do about it? Hope? Hope for what? Maybe Mello would acknowledge his absence and then attempt to search for him? But where would he even begin to look? Pray? Pray to who? Matt didn't share the same God as Mello. Matt didn't share a god at all, praying hadn't ever done anything for him and he couldn't imagine why that would change now.

The door swung open, soundless despite it's weight. The footsteps weren't soundless, and based on the sounds echoing around the room, alone, Matt knew this wasn't the same man that had been following him. He craned his neck and squinted up at a suddenly familiar face. Mello had his picture, Light Yagami. He knew the shock showed on his face, but what else was he supposed to think. Who else wanted him dead, besides Kira? How had he even become a blip on Kira's radar?

"What is your name?" Light asked, his voice slow and even, direct and straight to the point. It was a good act, and it nearly fooled Matt. Light didn't look angry or anxious at all, he almost looked bored. Matt scoffed and looked away.

"You know I'm not stupid enough to give my name to Kira," Matt sneered. Light's face twisted into an uncharacteristic sneer. This was supposed to be L's equal of sorts. Intelligent, strong, and relentless. He was supposed to have had the power to outsmart even L, but in that one moment, the look that shone bright in his eyes reminded Matt of Mello. The thought made him frown. Surely Light was different. Sure, Mello would lower himself to the level of kidnap, but this…this was different. There had to be a line between kidnap and torture.

"I can kill you just as well with my hands," Light murmured, kneeling down beside Matt, in complete faith. He believed the boy was restrained enough as to refrain from attacking him. Here was Kira, on a silver platter, presented before Matt, one of three people gunning for him, and Kira knew Matt couldn't do anything about it. Not only could he not attack him, but even if he could, he wouldn't be able to inflict significant enough damage as to rationalize attacking him in the first place. "I don't need your name. I want it."

"You can't… always… get… what you --" Matt began in a weak singing voice, but the voice cut out immediately when Light punched him across the face. Strength tensed Light's muscles, and he remained balanced, unmoving, and yet in the back of Matt's fuzzy mind, he knew Light wasn't a seasoned fighter. Perhaps that could be useful in the future. Maybe Matt could challenge him, somehow without the guards getting involved, maybe then he could discover more weaknesses about Kira. Because Kira couldn't win against previous residents of Wammy's house. Like soldiers in training, Matt knew eventually Kira would crumble beneath Wammy's superior knowledge. The psycho was merely in way over his head, because this is what Matt was trained for. This is what they were all made for. They would be victorious.

"One more chance," Light murmured.

"You know I won't," Matt responded, his voice oddly metallic. He shifted, stifling his grunts of pain, until he was resting on his bloodied knees, level with Light Yagami. "If that's why I'm here then --"

"I would not capture you for your name," Light chided disdainfully. "Why are you following Misa Misa? It was Near, wasn't it? He shared his rather eccentric beliefs with you. About me being Kira."

"I'm stalking Misa for my own personal pleasure," Matt answered promptly, licking his lips suggestively. "You're kind of paranoid about Near. Is he finally getting to you?"

"Why are you following Misa," Light snapped, briefly losing his composure.

_Because Mello thinks she's the second Kira_. "L thought she was the second Kira. L is never wrong."

"Another L fan girl," Light scoffed, backing away from Matt and rising to his feet. His elevated position made Matt appear inferior once more, if only for this moment.

"What did you kidnap me for?" Matt demanded. He wanted to rise too, but he knew he didn't have the strength, and he half suspected Light wouldn't let him anyway. His knees were numb; he knew they were swollen. He knew he had to do something to get out soon, before his strength depleted too much.

"You knew L too? They didn't mention you as a possible successor." Light decided to comment. He hadn't even planned on bringing up L. Light was supposed to be the new L anyway. But the way these 'successors' spoke of him it was as if they'd know him for years. As if L ever let anyone really know him….

"I knew _of _him," Matt murmured, voicing Light's original thought. "Only one person was supposed to succeed him. His choice." Matt's voice was oddly devoid of incriminating emotions. "I was third in ranking, I knew I wasn't going to be the new L. It was supposed to be Near anyway…until you…." Matt cleared his throat and looked away. This was stupid, getting emotional over something that happened when he was thirteen.

"Near isn't --"

"Yes he is," Matt interrupted. "He was always the next L, even before L died. I know you're calling yourself L. I know that in that head of yours, and with those zombies following you, sometimes you even think you're actually him, with all of his connections you don't really deserve. But you aren't solving any of the problems he solved. You aren't helping anybody, Light Yagami. L is the solution, you are the problem. Kira and L can never coexist."

"He found that out the hard way," Light agreed. A childish glare twisted Matt's features before disappearing entirely, smoothed out into a careless façade that didn't fool either of them but remained purely for symbolic value. This was L he was talking about. Light didn't even know L. He didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. He couldn't possibly realize how much damage he had done to the world by killing L.

"Don't worry. You will too," Matt murmured. "You're just a little slower at learning."

Light frowned and swung without thinking. Isn't that what he did when L had annoyed him? All those years ago. But he was a child then…had he really changed? Matt crashed to the floor, a muffled yelp seeping through clenched teeth, lips smashed together in a firm, fine line. His ribs were broken, he knew that the minute he'd woken up, but the pain had just intensified, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could manage to swallow it before it became too much. "You're the prisoner. Shut up."

"I'm not the one who deserves to be behind bars," Matt snapped, his voice sharp, laced with evident pain.

"Shut up," Light snapped. His foot struck out, catching Matt the stomach, painfully close to his broken ribs. Matt yelped again. He didn't even care about pride or dignity, or hiding his obvious pain. "You can't talk to god like that." His throat was closing up, constricting with tears of agony he refused to shed. His muscles quivered, tensing, making it hurt more.

"I know," Matt wheezed. "Because he doesn't exist." There was that sentence that he had learned to swallow years ago, upon moving into Wammy's house and falling together with Mello. He'd accepted God back then, only because God had been so important to Mello. But this was different. "You don't --"

"Shut up," Light kicked out again, receiving another beautiful shout of pain from Matt. The boy's voice, rough when he talked, seemed priceless when it was distorted with pain. He wanted to hear more of it. Before Matt could recover, he kicked out again, and again and again until the boy wasn't shouting anymore, until the pain was insistently pulling a black veil over his head, shrouding his vision is blurred darkness and every gasp came out as a wheeze and something that sounded an awful lot like a choked sob. Every movement hurt and he wanted to go back home, wherever that was, and crawl back into bed and never wake up again, not even to finish Gears of War 2. "You'll learn your place. I'll make sure of it. But until then, I want you to answer my questions. Even L had his methods…" Matt shook his head and tried to roll over. He couldn't. Laying on his back would put too much strain on his restrained arms, but laying on his stomach hurt too much. He didn't hear Light walk away or the soundless door swinging shut and clicking locked. The veil was becoming too heavy, crushing him, and with a strangled gasp he let it.


End file.
